


A Shot in the Dark

by Ahatmadeofcheese



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Romance, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Ficlet Collection, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahatmadeofcheese/pseuds/Ahatmadeofcheese
Summary: These are a few one shots I’ve written and decided to publish. Willing to take suggestions for more, if you have any. Just short moments between a few of my favorite ships.
Relationships: Lux Bonteri/Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	1. Dancing in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan does his best to cheer up the duchess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Satine/Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan can hear the soft, even breathing and feel the calm, blurry thoughts that mean his master is asleep. Rest has eluded him, even though they have stayed awake the entire previous night and all day. He simply feels too tired to sleep, his mind spinning like a slow top, waiting for the next threat. The complicated emotions Obi-Wan can sense from Satine prove he is not the only one. He heaves a sigh and rolls over on his sleeping mat.

_Satine_. The young duchess they’ve been charged with protecting has proven to be resourceful, stubborn, independent, kind, quick-thinking, and, worst of all, beautiful. It would be a problem even excluding that last trait. Satine’s personality gels with his own, and the attraction he feels towards her is very un-Jedilike. He would mention the subject to Qui-Gon, except he’s concerned that his master will simply prevent the two from spending any time together, or worse, get them reassigned entirely. Obi-Wan likes talking to Satine and enjoys spending time with her. An attachment problem is a risk he’s willing to take. 

He hears a quiet rustling noise as Satine rises from her own sleeping mat. Footsteps move quickly over the rusted-out floor of the abandoned ship they are staying in. There’s a silent and furious battle between Obi-Wan’s head and heart as he debates on whether or not to follow her. When the first muffled sobs reach his ears, his heart wins out and he eases his way from the ship, pausing in the doorway.

She sits on a piece of scrap metal, head in hands, the blonde hair hanging over her shoulders gleaming in the moonlight. For a moment he does nothing, his mind still arguing that he should turn around. Then he walks over and sits down beside her. The ship is in the middle of a scrapyard, nothing but wrecks as far as the eye can see. The duchess sobs for another minute or two before composing herself and turning to Obi-Wan, eyes red and puffy.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. Satine lets out a rough half-sob, half-laugh. 

“Does it look like I’m alright?” She draws her legs up to her chest and rests her chin on her knees. Her voice softens. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I just- I miss my home. I miss things being normal. I miss my people.” Hesitantly he puts a hand halfway out to comfort her, then withdraws it. _What do I say now?_

“What do you miss most?” Is what he finds himself saying. She looks off at the horizon, to the stars and moons in the sky. For a moment he thinks she isn’t going to say anything at all.

“Right now? Dances. I used to love going to formal balls and galas. The music, the food, the people. The dancing.” She pauses. “That’s probably a stupid thing to miss. I should say something like my family or peace or something; and I _do_ miss those things, but right now it’s dances.” An idea runs through Obi-Wan’s mind, so abstract at first that it seemed absurd. Then, after thinking on it, he decides that it can’t be the worst course of action. He climbs to his feet and smiles, offering Satine a hand. She eyes it warily.

“You said you miss dances, right?” She nods. “I can’t do anything about food, music or people, but we can imagine those if we put our minds to it.” A grin spreads slowly over her face. The duchess comes to her feet and stands face to face with Obi-Wan. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks after a few moments. Embarrassment creeps through him, and he feels certain that his face is bright red.

“I-uh-don’t know how to dance.” She laughs, a real one now, not half a sob. Gently, she takes one of his hands into her own.

“Put your other hand on my waist.” The duchess instructs, placing her own on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Butterflies are running through his stomach, and he’s concerned that the hand Satine is holding is becoming increasingly sweaty. Slowly he takes his left hand and places it delicately above her hip. The pair hold each other at arms length, Obi-Wan avoiding eye contact. Satine laughs again. “You are the most tightly wound Jedi I’ve ever met. We’re dancing, not sitting in on a military briefing. Relax a little.” He releases a deep breath and looks down into her eyes. They’re blue, and he’s suddenly reminded of kyber crystals. 

“What do we do now?” he asks. She smiles.

“If we had music I’d show you a dance, but now we just kind of move around slowly.” She begins to lead him in a slow circle, stepping in time with a melody only she can hear. Obi-Wan watches his feet, trying to not look like a fool in front of her. Satine begins to hum the simple melody quietly and it’s almost inaudible. At one point he looks up to see her watching him. 

“What are you thinking?” A blush creeps over her fair skin. She joins him in watching their feet.

“Nothing.” Then she laughs. “You’re the Jedi, you tell me what I’m thinking.”

“It’s not polite to read someone’s mind without reason or consent.” She rolls her eyes.

“Got it, textbook. I’ll just have to show you then.” Suddenly Satine’s head is on his chest. He panicks. The butterflies begin to flap frantically, and his heart gives a little leap somewhere in his chest. She’s so close that he can smell her hair. Admittedly it’s not a wonderful smell because they’ve been hiding from insurgents in a rusty old ship for three days, but it’s the closeness that counts. His heart is beating so fast she must be able to hear it.

The two remain like that for several minutes, simply rocking back and forth in near silence. Part of Obi-Wan is still shouting about attachments, but he banishes it. Attachments are worth it just to be here, near to the duchess, under the stars. Eventually she pulls her head back and he lets go, assuming the dance is over, the moment lost. But she doesn’t step away, instead throwing her arms around his waist. After a beat he wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” She whispers into his ear. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond. It’s enough to stay here with her for a good long while, holding each other and speaking without saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you see any spelling or grammatical errors. Obi-Wan and Satine are so cute together, even if I’m not a huge Satine fan. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Just for a Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka makes a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lux/Ahsoka

Ahsoka slowly drifts through the lightsaber forms, the basic movements familiar and repetitive. It’s relatively early in the morning; the sun is just barely peeking its way over the horizen of Onderon. She’s standing on the roof of the building they use as headquarters. Some Jedi prefer to meditate by sitting still for however long is necessary. Ahsoka is not one of them. Like her master, the Padawan prefers using the motions of a duel to channel the force. It calms her, allows her to reflect and focus. Something she desperately needs right now.

She’s so absorbed in the motions that she almost doesn’t sense the boy coming up behind her. _Almost_. A smile cracks her face as she feels the little tug. The one that means it’s Lux. But there’s sadness there as well.

“What brings you up here so early?” she asks without turning around. He freezes. Ahsoka lets out a light laugh, extinguishing her saber blades and turning around to face him. “You know that you can’t just sneak up on a Jedi.” Lux laughs, too.

“A boy can dream.” Her heart warms as they smile at each other, then a pang fills her. She cordons off her unruly emotions and adopts her best I’m-in-control-of-my-feelings-but-not-a-robot mentality. The only problem is that Ahsoka has never been good at that kind of thinking. It tends works for a little while, but with the Steela situation she’s having a bit of trouble remaining peaceful. She clips her sabers to her belt and leans up against the side of the building’s roof.

“You didn’t answer my question.” The young man shrugs, his arms folded.

“I can’t just come up to the roof and enjoy the day?” Ahsoka rolls her eyes. 

“If you’re just here to enjoy the day, why were you trying to sneak up on me?” He blushes now, and Ahsoka feels a wave of conflicting emotions broiling under the surface of his mind. There’s the compulsive urge to see what’s going on, to take a little sneak peek, but she resists it, banishing the though immediately. _I’m a Jedi, not a lovesick teenager._ Another voice chimes in with _you’re both_ , but she banishes that thought, too. _I’m in complete control of my emotions._ Totally.

“Fine,” he says, “I came up here to see you.” _Oh_. 

“Well, you’ve seen me. What now?” Her attempt to lighten the mood with humor falls flat. “Okay, that was dumb. You’ve got something on your mind, don’t you?” Lux moves closer and leans against the low wall next to her, resting on his elbows, looking out over the city.

“I wanted to talk to you about- Well-” he pauses awkwardly and she gives him a pitying look.

“Hey, I’m a wise and noble Jedi Knight, remember? You can talk to me about anything.” He smiles gratefully.

“Okay, Okay.” he sighs, then continues, “I- You know how I feel about you. And you know how I feel about Steela.” She nods. _Oh Force, we’re going to have_ this _discussion, aren’t we?_ “Well, I just- wanted to talk to you about it.” Ahsoka sighs and looks away from him, out in the other direction, at the wall of the building next to them.

“I’m not sure what to say.” she says defensively. Lux puts a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugs off. “I know what I have to say, what I should say, what I want to say, what the Jedi would want me to say, but I don’t know what I’m going _to_ say.” 

“I understand.” She turns back to look at him, look at his handsome face and brown hair and the lips she once kissed, surprised and angry, in the middle of a Death Watch camp. Unwittingly she bursts out laughing. He gives her a confused look.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says, tugging at her lekku embarrassedly, “I was thinking about that time I told everyone we were betrothed. In the Death Watch camp.” He laughs, too, clearly remembering the same stilted kiss.

“That was probably the worst performance I’ve ever seen in my life! It’s a wonder they still believed we were engaged after that.” She punches his shoulder playfully.

“I’m offended,” she says, “I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for the occasion. If I had any inkling about what the hell you were going to do, I’m sure it would’ve been a great show!” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Ahsoka Tano, the Padawan who’s kissed more than one person who was trying to shut her up.” 

“How would _you_ know? For all you know I’ve got a boyfriend back at the temple.” Now the look he gives her is curious.

“Is that allowed?” She shrugs.

“Not officially. Jedi aren’t celibate- you can hook up with as many people as you want as long as it doesn’t become an ‘attachment’.” 

“An attachment?”

“No getting married, no putting them before your duty to the Order.” He frowns. “There are exceptions, of course. Master Adi-Mundi has a wife and several children. Apparently his race is really rare or something and there aren't enough to go around.” 

“So I guess we couldn’t be together anyway.” Now the serious conversation is back. _Why can’t we go back to insulting my kissing skills?_

“I don’t know. It’s... complicated.” She lets out a sigh. “I really do like you, Lux. A lot. But I like being a Jedi. I like the Republic. Jedi have been known to have secret lovers; even spouses. But that would never work for us.” Now a fire rises in his eyes.

“And why would that never work for us?” _He’s the one who brought up not being together!_

“Because... I...” Ahsoka closes her eyes. “Let me put it bluntly, Lux. We’re sixteen, there’s a war going on; here on Onderon and elsewhere, and I don’t even know if both of us will still be alive in a week, let alone if we’ll still be on the same planet. Even when I’m home I’m on Coruscant, a place you never go to, I barely have time to sleep, let alone carry on a secret affair with you from halfway across the galaxy.” She falls silent for a moment. “I do _want_ to be together, but sometimes what people want isn’t always possible. You- You- You deserve someone who can be there for you.” Tears gather in her eyes and she turns away, blinking rapidly and grappling with her emotions. “Someone like Steela.” It feels someone is tearing her stomach open with a lightsaber.

Lux remains silent. Then he reaches out a hand and puts it on her shoulder. She can’t stop it anymore and she cries, not loudly but visibly, traitorous tears sliding down her face and onto her arms. He puts his other hand on the opposite shoulder and turns her to face him. She looks into his eyes, and he looks into hers and she can feel a whole host of complicated emotions rumbling around inside his mind. 

“Ahsoka-” he says, and then he kisses her.

Jokes aside, Ahsoka has kissed very few people. If she’s being completely honest, the only boy she’s ever kissed is Lux, not that she’d going to tell him that. So maybe her scale for what constitutes as a good kiss is a little out of whack with her only comparison being the random ‘I need you to shut up now’ kiss she got back on Carlac. But as far as she’s concerned, this is a pretty good kiss.

It’s not exactly cold on the roof, but since the dawn has just barely begun there is a certain chill to the air, especially while standing in one place. Lux’s lips are warm and soft, his hands moving from her shoulders to one on the back of her head and the other on her mid-back. A flare of warmth runs through her, and after the initial shock fades she leans into the kiss, tilting her head slightly, her eyes closing. Her hands flounder around for a bit before eventually mirroring his, one tangled in his short brown hair, the other slightly below his shoulder blades. 

They pull away after a moment, breathing slightly heavily. They still cling to each other, still look into the opposite partner’s eyes. 

“You really need to tell me when you’re going to do that.” she says breathlessly. He bursts out laughing, pulling Ahsoka into a tight embrace. “I’m not joking!” she protests, “I’d like a warning!” Being in his arms is only just short of kissing him. Only just.

“In the future I’ll make sure to tell you whenever I plan on kissing you.” Then he releases her, still holding onto her hands. “That is, if there is a future.” He drops her hands, his good cheer fading into a darker melancholy. Ahsoka bites her lip and looks at his hand, then at the sun, which has finally broken out over the city walls.

 _You’re a Jedi! You aren’t allowed to do this! Don’t tell yourself it’s just a kiss, you know better!_ The voice sounds suspiciously like Master Obi-Wan. _But does that really matter? Can something so right really hurt the Order?_ That voice is hopeful. _What about Steela? What about the future?_ Ahsoka lets out a sigh, thinks for another minute, then meets Lux’s eyes again.

“Maybe there can be.” She takes his hand, and decides that the third kiss is even better than the second. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Would definitely write more Luxsoka in the future.


	3. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin and Padmé have a difficult conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin/Padmé

Anakin arrives back on Coruscant at sunset, sweaty and tired. It took them five long days to beat off the Separatist forces, and another on the way back when they found some scout ships in their territory. After the carrier touches down, Anakin does the nessacary reports and conversations, then heads directly for the nearest refresher.

His hair is still dripping wet when he arrives at Padmé’s apartment. He knocks on the door and she opens it. A smile lights up her tired face and she quickly ushers him inside. After a quick check with the force to make sure they're alone, he pulls her into a tight embrace and a deep, lingering kiss. Tension melts off of him as he holds her in his arms. Padmé’s hands are on his face, holding him there like she’s afraid he’ll disappear.

They finally break away from each other a few moments later, but neither of them is willing to let go. Anakin takes her hand and they make there way to her living area and flop down onto the couch. Her hands press against his chest and suddenly her lips are back on his. He opens his mouth to deepen the kiss and his hands roam her body. He smiles against her lips. _I’ve missed you, my love._

* * *

Afterwards they lie on her bed, tired but satisfied. Padmé’s dark hair trails over his metal arm, her back presses against his chest. He holds onto her like this for what seems like hours. Finally, she speaks.

“I’m glad you made it home, Ani.” He kisses her neck.

“Me too, love.” He feels a warmth filling him, a warmth that is missing whenever she is away. “I couldn’t wait to get back here. A week in combat is too much, even for me.” Her hand rubs his, the one that is currently encircling her waist.

“That’s not what I meant.” She rolls over to face him, loosening his grip. “Whenever you’re away I feel...” The usually eloquent senator is at a loss for words. “I’m afraid that one day you might not make it back.” He pulls her closer to him, until their bodies are pressed together once more. Tears trickle down her face, but she does not yet cry. “I know it’s the risk I took when we married, but with this war-” Her voice breaks. “I don’t want you to die! I love you!” He kisses the top of her head and rubs circles on her back.

“I’m not going to die,” he insists in a gentle tone, “those seppies couldn’t hit the broad side of a destroyer, let alone me!” 

“Thousands of people die in this war every day!” she cries, “You could be one of them! You’re reckless, you run straight into ambushes-”

“I do _not_ run straight into ambushes!” She begins to insist that he does, but he cuts her off. He tilts her head up and looks her in the eyes. “I will not leave you alone Padmé. Not now, and not ever. I love you, too, and I’m not going to die.” She buries her face in his chest and sobs, and he holds her until she is all cried out. He kisses her and she kisses back, and the love flowing between them is so strong that Anakin can feel it in the force.

“I- Oh, Anakin.” She sighs. “Please be careful. For me.” He smiles.

“I’m always careful.” There’s a short, stilted laugh from Padmé, and the tension breaks. “So what happened around here while I was gone?” She takes a deep, calming breath.

“Well Senator Ghenges decided that now would be a good time to push his tax reform through, and he held the floor for two hours. He also has a cold, so every so often he would stop to sneeze and cough, and every time-”

The mood lightens and they carry on their conversation until neither has any more to say, nor any energy to say anything. Padmé gently runs her fingers through his hair.

“Do you promise?” She asks quietly, near a whisper. He raises one eyebrow.

“Promise what?” 

“That you won’t leave me?” He kisses her on the forehead, then presses his brow to hers.

“I swear on my word as a Jedi that I will never, ever, leave you. I promise.” They look into each other’s eyes, and the mood in the room is love and happiness. But Anakin feels an infinitesimal trickle in the force, a little prickle of something cold poked with something smaller than a needle. He banishes it almost instantly. _I_ will _never leave her alone. It’s my decision, not yours_. The little prickle fades, and by the time they wake up the next morning he’s already forgotten it, never to be remembered until over a full year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that one ended on a bittersweet note. Autocorrect was especially viscous this chapter, so let me know if you see anything weird.


End file.
